jueves, 10 de noviembre de 2016

This is a bilingual Ladino-Castellano poetry collection written by acclaimed Argentine poet Juan dibaxu, a Sephardic term that means “under”. The title already conveys the complex universe the reader may find under the veil of a seeming simplicity; a deluge of obstreperous feelings said in an undertone. The past, love, confusion, countless sensations, strong desires, empty spaces, a search for a homeland – roots with which I fail to identify, once more.

Gelman, published in 1994. He decided to call it

In this book, Gelman's poems first appear in Ladino and then in Spanish; I'll follow the same order, including the English translation afterwards.

XV

tu boz sta escura

di bezus qui a mí no dieras/

di bezus qui a mí no das/

la nochi es polvu dest'ixiliu/

*

tu voz está oscura

de besos que no me diste/

de besos que no me das/

la noche es polvo de este exilio/

*

your voice is dark

of kisses that you did not give to me/

of kisses that you do not give to me/

night is dust from this exile/

The act of revealing real emotions – an act often fraught with ineffable difficulty – never looked so simple. Gelman masterfully expresses in a few words, everything that sometimes requires numerous pages and that tangible concept of fleeting nature we call time; everything that emerges from the depths of love, regret,

shame.

XXIV

amarti es istu:

un avla qui va a dizer/

un arvulicu sin folyas

qui da solombra/

*

amarte es esto:

una palabra que está por decir/

un arbolito sin hojas

que da sombra/

*

loving you is this:

a word that is about to speak/

a small tree without leaves

that provides shade/

Through unique and recurring imagery and a naturally distinctive cadence, he places the reader inside his mind; our mind, that inhospitable region where dreams and yearnings continue to accumulate in secrecy, longing for emotional impetus. Concise lines that belong to a bigger picture, a fragmented reality; lines that are accompanied by the use of somewhat distracting slashes, part of the author's individual style.

X

dizis avlas cun árvulis

tenin folyas qui cantan

y páxarus

qui adjuntan sol/

tu silenziu

disparta

lus gritus

dil mundu/

*

dices palabras con árboles/

tienen hojas que cantan

y pájaros

que juntan sol/

tu silencio

despierta

los gritos

del mundo/

*

you say words with trees/

they have leaves that sing

and birds

that gather sun/

your silence

awakes

the cries

of the world/

Gelman's poetry reveals itself without any affectation; some things are open to interpretation but amid so much comforting frankness, they are so, so clear. He voices his thoughts with simple yet evocative metaphors and a pithy language which defies any traditional rule.

viernes, 4 de noviembre de 2016

When homework is done, the inevitable descent from heaven and the visitation of

memories, and the session of rhythms invade the dwelling, the head and the world of the spirit.

—A horse scampers off along the suburban turf and the gardens and the wood lots, besieged by the carbonic plague. Somewhere in the world, a wretched melodramatic woman is sighing for unlikely desertions.

Desperadoes are languishing for storms, drunkenness, wounds. Little children are stifling curses along the rivers.

I must study some more to the sound of the consuming work which forms in all the people and rises up in them.

II. Sonnet

Man of usual constitution, wasn't the flesh a fruit hanging in the orchard? —O childhood days!—wasn't the body a treasure to spend?—wasn't love the peril or the strength of Psyche? ...